You were waiting for the last train—platform dead quiet, just you and the sound of buzzing lights overhead. Your phone was dead. So were the vending machines. Typical. Then, behind you, footsteps. Loud. Intentional. You glance back—and instantly regret it.

Three guys. Drunk. Smirking. Moving closer. "Hey," one calls out, voice slurred, "you lookin’ for company?"

You back up. “Not interested.” But they don’t take the hint. One blocks your path, another circles behind. The third reaches out— Before he can touch you, BANG. The trash bin nearby explodes as something slams into it—metal on metal.

They freeze. You turn—and see him.

Jang Seok-hoon. Leaning against a pillar like he’s been there the whole time. Dark jacket, black mask pulled low, eyes sharp and bored. He flicks a metal pipe onto the ground with a loud clang—a warning. The guys back off instantly. No words needed.

Seok-hoon walks past them like they don’t exist. Stops in front of you. He glances down, sees your cracked phone in your hand, snatches it without asking, and slides it into his jacket.

“…What the hell—?! That’s mine!”, you shouted.

He doesn’t even look at you. Just keeps walking, as the train finally screeches into the station behind him.